Companions II: Remembering Strangers
by EveningCicada
Summary: Sequel to 'Companions.' Now that Bailey doesn't remember who Shadow is, what will Shadow go through to get her memory back? Is it another shot at love, to restore broken promises? But Danny- what does he know? Is he a useful ally, or another enemy?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I did not know who this girl was.

I did not want to call her Bailey. Bailey was gone; this girl looked like her, but she was not the same girl I had come to know. Her hair was the same, her eyes were identical, her fingers still long and delicate. But I knew on the inside, beneath her skin, she was not Bailey.

And so I didn't know who she was.

I kept telling myself that this whole thing was ridiculous and unreal; I kept convincing myself that one morning I'd wake up in the treehouse and see Bailey standing over me, a basket of strawberries in her hands. I kept wanting to believe that maybe she'd snap out of it and say, "Oh, Shadow!" and call me by my real name again. That she would cuddle against me again. That she'd attempt to kiss me again.

I kept making myself believe that she'd return to normal, that she'd _remember._

I kept trying to convince myself that deep down, behind those blue eyes, this girl was Bailey.

But Bailey was gone; her soul had been stolen.

How do you revive someone?

How can you make them remember you when you lost sight of who you are?


	2. One Hope

**Chapter One**

Night had fallen. The ARK was silent—eerily silent—except for the_ plunk, plunk_ of the leaking pipe behind me. I sat on the damp floor, in the darkness, my knees to my chest. True, I physically was hidden, but I couldn't hide from the memories that tore through my insides, that threatened to pull me apart limb by limb—and did.

She was gone. The only names she remembered were Eggman's and Evans's. Again, she was not frightened by me. Her hedgehog form was still familiar to her; her memories of the ARK remained intact. But, just like me some while ago, she could not piece them together. She could not make sense of them, at least not anymore. She didn't know why she was here or what to make of this situation.

Neither did I.

"_What do you mean who am I? It's me, Shadow! Come on, Bailey."_

_Blank, confused eyes. "Bailey?"_

"_Wha—yes, Bailey!" The room shifting, changing positions. Two men in lab coats."What did you do to her?"_

_Harsh, grey eyes."What does it look like?"_

"_She doesn't remember you." Another set of grey eyes, but a younger pair. "Or anything, for that matter."_

_Eyes concealed by goggles. "Broken yet?"_

_They didn't receive an answer, and I didn't either, because I was silent._

_xxxxxxx_

_I had only a short time to talk to her before being taken away to my cell. But I soon learned that Bailey remembered some things after all._

"_Space Colony ARK?"  
_

"_ I was operated on fifty-"_

"_Yes! Oh, you do remember! And that you are part-hedgehog?"_

"_Stranger? How do you know...?"_

_Yes. She began calling me 'stranger.'_

"_Shadow! Come!" Eggman._

"_I-I gotta go."_

"_Will I see you again?"_

"_Yes." I whispered, "When everyone is asleep, come-"_

_Again. "Shadow!"_

_I had to leave and cut my message short."Goodbye!"_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

I replayed the scene over and over in my head, and each time tried to convince myself it was absolutely real.

I almost believed I was hallucinating until light footsteps stumbled around in the darkness before me. I could hear her breathing from here—a shaky, frightened rhythm.

"Bailey?" I asked. So she did come. For a moment, I spoke only to the air around me, but a moment or two later Bailey answered, rather uncertainly, "S-Stranger?"

"Shadow," I corrected. "My name is Shadow. You can come closer."

I got up from my hiding spot and went to the bars.

"I can't see too well," Bailey said. "It's so dark."

"I know."

I heard the chime of a few keys clinking against each other. I was about to speak but Bailey warned, "Shhh."

Carefully, she slipped one into the cell's keyhole and twisted it. The lock released with a _click, _and she quietly pulled the bars to the side, joining me in my imprisonment.

"How did you...?" I asked.

Even through the darkness, I could hear the smile in her voice. "Evans left his keys in the lab," she explained. "So I snatched them."

Every word pained me. The completely foreign way she spoke. Her voice had lost its edge. It's like she forgot the way she was supposed to talk; every word was either uncertain, or unfamiliar, or from someone else's tongue—very un-Bailey. It wasn't this way just for me; Bailey seemed to feel uncomfortable with herself too. She seemed to be much more fragile than the Bailey I used to know. Now she was easily frightened, easily confused. She was scared of what was happening, but I believe she was more startled by the fact she _didn't know_ what was going on.

This very thought made my voice tremble. My throat grew hot.

_Don't cry_, I told myself._ Whatever you do, do not cry. It'll make everything so much worse._

I bit down hard on my cheeks. I held my breath.

"Are you okay?" Bailey asked. She knelt down to match my height.

"Fine," I said. "I'm fine. D-Don't worry."

She looked puzzled, but finally nodded. "Okay," she said softly. "So, um. What...are we doing here?"

But I wasn't listening. I was staring at her neck. Red lines stretched from her gullet to her collarbone. Some of them stopped midway, but most of them jerked and twisted farther down than I could see.

I went to touch her, and it wasn't until she abruptly backed away that I realized she wasn't totally comfortable with me. She was painfully distant. With her words. With her actions. Hell, she didn't even call me by my name.

I had become a stranger.

For this reason, I no longer objected when she called me that.

I was brought back to reality with a start. "Um," I said, my hand still extended.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Those were scratch marks. From a human. "Who...who touched you?" I asked.

I had to bite down on my cheek until I tasted blood. It dawned on me that _I_, too, was not myself when talking to her. We had both become strangers to each other. We were both uncomfortable with each other. We both didn't know anything about each other anymore.

"What?" she gasped. She must have saw me staring at her neck, because she touched one of the marks with two fingers. They appeared to raised, _fresh_.

"I...I don't know," she said. I didn't push it further.

"We have to get out of here," I said.

Her fingers lingered on her scratches. "How?"

My chest grew tight. "The exits must be locked, right?"

"But they're asleep," Bailey pointed out.

I thought she meant the doors, but I realized soon she was talking about Eggman and Evans.

"So I guess it won't be so hard, then." I didn't want to ask her to perform Chaos Control. I didn't even want to talk to her anymore, because the more she spoke, the more real everything became, and the more artificial she would become. The more of a stranger she'd be, the more we wouldn't know each other.

But the more I thought about it, the more I needed to talk to her, the more we needed to interact. I kept clinging to this hope that we'd restore what was lost and she'd remember me if we just kept being with each other. Maybe after a while she'd say something vague at first, like, "You look a little familiar, now that I think about it. And you talk like someone I used to know, too..."

And then there's that infamous "Oh, Shadow!" I kept hoping to hear her say. After long and exhausting attempts to make her remember, she'd no longer be unspecific and suddenly realize with genuine understanding that I was Shadow, yes, Shadow, and not 'Stranger.' And she'd embrace me and I'd blush uncontrollably and run my hand through her short hair.

It seemed to make absolutely no sense, but I learned that nothing made sense since this all began, and it didn't really make much of a difference. I thought I'd be used to it by now.

"What?" Bailey asked.

"To escape," I clarified.

"Oh." She looked down in embarrassment.

I reached for her hand, a signal for her to get off her knees because we were going to try to escape, but she refused the offer and instead got up by herself.

It hurt. I don't know how else to say it, or what else there is to say. I was done elaborating and making lengthy, intricate explanations. No more details. It hurt. It just plainly hurt. Simple as that.

We walked to the front entrance, which felt totally strange because sneaking out isn't usually as easy. I played around with a number panel beside the door, and the before long the woodlands were staring back at us.

"Wow," Bailey muttered. "We're in the middle of the forest, huh?"

"I guess so," I said blankly, patiently. My mouth merely moved to form the words to build a sentence I wasn't paying attention to, from a language I was no longer familiar with.

We left the ARK without a problem.

For the second time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bailey had fallen asleep against a tree a few evergreens away from me. It was still late, 1:59 am, and we walked a few miles to the deeper part of the forest, where we were less likely to be found.

I tried not to look at her when it wasn't necessary. This entire thing was my fault—my damn stupidity and ungratefulness. I was a waste of life. Why did Professor Gerald invest so much time into creating me when I would only let others down? For a minute or two I hated him, right then and there, for making his biggest mistake—me. But I soon recognized that as pointless. Blaming him for my problems would get me nowhere—another example of my stupidity.

How come, when it came to Bailey, I could no longer think? My mind stopped working when she was the subject. I lost her just when I finally had her. I cost her her life.

What happened to me? Why did I just let them take her away like that?

I mean, I just confessed my love for her...

Oh! So that's what was really bothering me, then.

She doesn't remember. She doesn't remember that I told her I loved her.

And if I told her now, well... I shook away the thought. It was too impossible to think about.

_What kind of monster are you?_

"I'm sorry," I whispered to Bailey, who, I firmly believed, was somewhere out there. I had to cling to this hope, whatever was left of it. I had to hypnotize myself into believing that I'd find her. It was measly and the odds were always against me, and I knew the chances of finding her would be nearly impossible. But it was still all I had, and it was enough.

"Goddamn it, I'm so sorry, Bailey," I whispered through gasps. I let a single tear fall. "I was so stupid. I'm so sorry."

But, as usual, I don't believe she heard me.


	3. Bruised

**Chapter 2**

Sleep no longer came to me, nor did it stay with me. My entire night had been made up of slipping in and out of consciousness slowly and unsteadily. I had no dreams.

But Bailey did because, on one occasion last night when I had lain awake and restless, I heard her mumble softly in her sleep.

"Stop it," she breathed. "Let go of me."

I had turned on my side to see if anyone was there, but only found Bailey, fast asleep on her back, her fist clenching and unclenching in rhythm with her tightening eyelids.

"Bailey?" I called out. It didn't fully process that she was having a nightmare of some sort; my mind was plagued with the thought she was actually talking to somebody. I really was exhausted.

"Nooo. That...That hurts. Mmm," she mumbled again, and I brought myself to my knees, ready to wake her.

"Bailey," I said, crawling over to her. "It's okay. No one is here to hurt you."

"Don't touch me," she whispered to the person inside her head.

I gently took my hand to her shoulder and shook her. "Wake up. It's Shadow. You're safe. Everything is fine."

The moonlight shone down upon her skin, and allowed me to see her scratches. I had removed my hand from her shoulder and examined them more closely. They stretched down to under her shirt, leading to—I shuddered-her breast.

When she quieted, I shuffled over to her legs, where more scratches and yellow bruises appeared where I had not noticed them before. They also led to underneath her dress in jagged, jerking lines. Again, the scratches of human nails.

"_That hurts."_

"_Don't touch me."_

I was putting the pieces together, and I did not like the view of the puzzle. Her arms bared the same scratches, but were somewhat lighter and less severe. I slowly, carefully picked up one of her wrists and discovered a thick, red line that encircled it. I recognized this bruise; it was from a man's grip. In some areas, the red line turned to a gruesome purple, most notably around her veins. I dropped her hand, now trembling, when I finally reached the devastating conclusion.

"Please stop," she mumbled again. "No..."

I looked to her pain-stricken face. It was appearing in the poor girl's dreams. Gently, I took a finger to her cheek in an attempt to calm her, but it showed no difference.

I understood the concept with the help of her mumbling and the examination of her bruises, but the next words she had said showed it in a completely different light.

"Don't, _Danny."_

….

"_Danny,_ you're hurting me. Stop it."

That sick bastard.


End file.
